


Bad Boys, not Bad News

by frostedgoddess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Bad Flirting, Derek Hale is a Failwolf, M/M, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Misunderstandings, OMC - Freeform, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedgoddess/pseuds/frostedgoddess
Summary: Stiles is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot, and he can take a hint. Especially, when Derek starts being really mean to the pack's Spark and Emissary.Obviously, Stiles is no longer welcome in the Hale Pack. What else could it be?





	1. I'd say 'god bless you', but he already did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's me, back at it again with the Sterek nonsense!  
> Special thanks to me because I wrote this all by myself. And as with all of my multichapter fics, this piece is complete and I'll be posting on Mondays, I guess (AEST).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's me, back at it again with the Sterek nonsense!  
> Special thanks to me because I wrote this all by myself. And as with all of my multichapter fics, this piece is complete and I'll be posting on Mondays, I guess (AEST).
> 
> Scott isn't in this fic, he like moved away or something. Idk, fanon Scott is a pretty bad friend, even worse than canon Scott.

Pack night, Friday night, the best night of Stiles’ week. Since the Nemeton had been purified, nothing dodgy had made it out into their neck of the woods, so Alpha Derek, in his infinite wisdom had traded in the brutal pack training nights for comfy pack bonding nights. They cooked together, ate, watched films, played board games (Derek banned monopoly after that one time, though). One time, Peter even taught them to knit because, “Valuable life skills know no gender.”

Stiles was coming in early because he wanted to surprise the pack with some lovely food, they’d just finished up midterms and even the werewolves were struggling under stress and lack of sleep. Stiles had finished a day earlier than everyone else, due to sheer scheduling luck. And while everyone partied away, trading their exam hangovers for real ones, Stiles arrived early to Derek's apartment to cook everyone a luxurious dinner.

 

Stiles had texted Derek earlier in the day with a shopping list and was happy to see that upon entering the pack house, there were several shopping bags with a post-it note that had:

_ Perishables in the fridge _

Written on it with Derek’s clear, precise handwriting.

No one else was there, but that wasn’t too important for Stiles to start cooking. Werewolves ate like pigs more than anything else, so Stiles had a massive meal planned out.

Tomato soup, roast lamb and sausages and three separate pies; chocolate hazelnut, raspberry and pumpkin, because it was Halloween 24/7 when you’re the only human in a wolf pack, even if you’re a human with spark capabilities. Actually, maybe the magic powers increased the Halloween aesthetic.

 

“That smells amazing!” Derek said, having snuck up behind Stiles and making him jump a foot in the air.

“Fuck!” Stiles yelped. “Bad wolfy, don’t frighten me! I’m fragile! Heart disease runs in my family.”

“Sorry, Stiles.” Derek said, though he sounded more amused than anything else. “Sorry that the fragile human act doesn’t work anymore.” He paused to laugh, a sweet genuine sound that filled Stiles with warmth.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I know your training is going incredibly. And that you could do some damage to me in a fight. Maybe even take me.”

Stiles’ mind snagged on the words _take me_ and he almost choked as he raised the spoon to taste test the soup.

“You alright there, Stiles?”

“Just fine, Sourwolf.”

“Your heartbeat started racing really fast.”

“I told you! Fragile human!”

“You’re not...frightened of me, are you?”

“No!” Stiles gasped, turning around from the stove. “Derek, how could you think that?” From his alpha’s expression, Stiles could tell that yes, Derek really did think that and had been sitting on that for a while.

“I did threaten to kill you a fair few times and you couldn’t be blamed if you started to associate all the near-death experiences with...well, me?”

“Derek, buddy, no.” Stiles reached over to hug the alpha tight, exhaling into the crook of the werewolf’s neck. “You know you’re one of my best friends, right?”

Derek blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Dude, of course.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Classic Sourwolf.” Stiles laughed. “Now get out of my kitchen, I’m making dinner for everyone.”

“It’s my kitchen!” Derek protested as he backed out of the kitchen anyways, a grin on his stupidly flawless face.

Stiles leant over his knees slightly, sighing in relief. Derek had heard his heart race in response to two single words! Stiles was just glad that he’d been able to change the subject before Derek asked too many questions about why Stiles’ pulse had really started to go so fast.

 

Stiles slid his pies into the oven to cook partly, then he could finish them off while everyone ate so the dessert would be lovely and warm by the time his packmates were ready to eat it. While the lamb was in the oven, Stiles took the time to lean against a wall, catch his breath and thank whichever god might happen to be listening, that Stiles hadn’t had a physiological reaction to calling Derek his close friend. Stiles was thankful that his body hadn't given away the fact that Stiles was lying. Because Derek wasn’t Stiles’ friend, he was so much more than that. Derek was Stiles’ ray of sunshine, Stiles loved Scott, but his oldest friend had so focused on himself that he’d left Stiles to the proverbial wolves more than once, even before leaving Beacon Hills for good. Stiles trusted Derek implicitly, Derek always took care of his own, protected Scott betrayal after betrayal and always protected the pack. And it felt like he’d known Derek forever, but that they’d only met yesterday. Stiles’ feelings for Derek had surpassed friendship ages ago, and left crush in the dust more recently. Stiles was more than a little bit in love with the youngest Hale. It was like the universe had a single-minded goal to bring Derek Hale to his knees and his life to ash. But Derek found new ways to climb to his feet every time and rebuild.

 

It was awe inspiring.

 

Stiles thought Derek would only ever be his antagonistic werewolf acquaintance, but more recently, Derek had been more accepting of physical comfort and affection. It gave Stiles hope and fanned the flames of his depressingly extensive emotions. So, maybe someday soon, Stiles would find an opportunity to actually ask Derek out and had started to drop in tiny hints that Stiles was single. Well, Stiles was always single; his hints were more leaning towards suggestions that he was maybe ready to end his life-long lonely streak.

 

At four, the pack began trickling in, Erica, coming from a party, brightening when she smelled Stiles’ creations. She’d been excited just to have been invited to a party and been able to attend, as she been invited before achieving complete control over her wolf abilities and had to turn down countless invitations.

 

“Batman! Is that pie?” She asked, pressing a sticky, pink lip print to Stiles’ left cheek.

“Of course, Erica.” Stiles pointed at the oven. “Three different ones, I know how you beasts eat. Is Boyd with you?”

Erica froze in place. “No... we had a fight.”

“Catwoman, do you want to talk about it?” Stiles turned to face her.

“No, not right now. Could I get a hug?”

“Sure.” Stiles agreed, he knew that his magical scent was bordering on irresistible for all shifters. “Whatever you need.” He reassured her as she embraced him tightly.

 

It was even worth the redness on his cheek after trying to scrub off the viscous gloss from his face.

 

It was hard to picture Erica and Boyd as having a fight, but it must have been something bad if Erica didn’t even want to talk about it to Stiles.

 

Boyd arrived shortly after that, not even glancing at his girlfriend before wandering off to go find Derek. They probably were off in a dark room, seemingly glaring at each other but really having a very serious, elitist conversation through the exclusive medium of their own eyebrows.

 

Jackson arrived not long after that, switching on ‘the game’ and checking the basketball scores before he greeted anyone.

“Stiles! What are you cooking.”

“Firstly, it’s never going to not be weird to hear you call me by my real name. Secondly, don’t let Derek hear you asking that, he’ll be all, _use your senses, the bite is a gift!_ ” Stiles said, in a frankly awful imitation of their alpha.

“I don’t sound like that!” Derek said, sounding insulted, and approximately a single millimetre behind Stiles.

“Fuck! Derek. Bell. Now!” Stiles demanded in response. “And I maintain that it sounded precisely like the things you used to say during pack training.”

“Oh! Oh!” Jackson said, pointing emphatically. “My favourite is; _let the moon fill you with energy, you cannot live without her._ ”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that!” Derek all but whined, fists coming to his hips.

 

Erica came back from the kitchen, where she had hopefully not been eating the uncooked pie. “I really loved, _you do not have a wolf, you are a wolf_. It was very philosophical.”

“It was very CS Lewis.” Stiles said cheekily.

“Hey, Stiles, why didn’t you come to the party?”

Stiles almost froze, forcing his muscles not to seize up and give away his fear and anxiety. “Oh, you know me, no one would be caught dead going with me and it’s getting to be a bit of a bummer seeing everyone all coupled up.”

It worked too, since everything Stiles said was technically true. Well, the overall sentiment at least, and in Stiles’ experience it was enough to cheat his own vascular system, and the werewolf living lie detectors.

“I don’t know how you did that.” Erica said, clearly impressed. “But I overheard Niki ask you to go to the party and you said you already had plans. So, you’re lying.”

“Don’t your eyes flash when you use your powers?” Jackson asked.

“Oh, Jackson, I don’t need magic to evade your senses.”

“But how?” Jackson asked, Stiles just winked and flashed his eyes.

“Very impressive, Stiles.” Derek said, the shock from being caught unawares from behind for the third time that night, causing Stiles to almost fall flat on his face, being caught an inch from the ground by an exasperated Jackson.

 

And that’s how Allison found them, Erica, Boyd and Derek standing in a loose circle while Jackson held Stiles up by his ribcage; Stiles blushing and Jackson sighing in exasperation.

 

Everyone went to watch the end of the basketball game Jackson had chosen so that they could transition into DVDs without complaint from the jock.

 

 

“Stiles! Stiles! Check out this hunk of hottie!” Allison said brightly from where she and Jackson were hunched over her phone, ignoring the opening expositional narration of the movie.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, brightly, putting down the dishes he was setting the table with for a moment to go and check what Allison and Jackson thought he should see.

It was a beautiful man with dark, artfully styled hair, stubble and a strong jaw. He was also entirely shirtless with a leather jacket on, his abs on glorious display. While there wasn’t really a strong resemblance, the aesthetic was spot on for a Derek Hale look alike.

In Stiles’ peripheral vision, he saw Derek glance over at the three of them, and an amazing idea hit him.

“Oh, damn.” Stiles said, biting his lip and playing up how much he liked the photo. “Bad boys just... _really_ do it for me.”

“Gross, Stilinski!” Jackson said, though his tone was light as he pushed Stiles softly enough that the spark knew Jackson was holding back. “No one wants to smell your arousal right before they eat!”

“What are you guys looking at?” Derek asked, clearly curious.

“It’s a photo of Stefano Sala.”

Derek looked over Allison’s shoulder at the black and white glamour shot. “That guy isn’t even that hot.”

“Are you _joking_?” Stiles said, the guy looked even vaguely like Derek, which made him gorgeous automatically. “I can tell from that jawline alone that he’s the kind of person to own a motorcycle. And takes off his shirt for no reason because it’s morally wrong to hide those abs. So, he wears that leather jacket. It’s gorgeous. _He_ is gorgeous.”

“You like bad boys?” Derek asked quietly.

“Can’t you smell it?” Jackson asked, and Stiles would have glared at his friend if it wasn’t just increasing the effectiveness of his hint. Derek had to see that the model was basically his twin.

“Yes, I can.” Derek sounded deeply thoughtful.

Stiles squawked in protest. “Everyone stop sniffing me! And if you can’t manage that, then stop commenting on it! It’s creepy!” He snapped, feeling weirdly violated.

“Just, shut up!” Derek said, scoffing in derision as he turned away from Stiles sharply and back into the kitchen.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, feeling hurt.

Derek started acting weird during dinner.

Stiles felt his stomach flip over uncomfortably, because it was entirely possible that Derek had caught onto Stiles' hint and reacted in the way that Stiles had only feared he would.

"Derek, can you pass the potatoes?" Stiles asked.

Derek stared resolutely at his own plate.

"Derek!" Stiles snapped.

Everyone's conversation paused, turning to stare at Stiles and Derek, Derek didn't even look up.

"Here." Isaac said, handing Stiles the dish while shooting the Alpha a baffled and irritated glance.

After serving himself, Stiles shrunk into his seat. Derek was always the most eager to help anyone, so he must be pretty angry at Stiles to ignore him altogether.

Whatever, Stiles had learned his lesson after Lydia, he wasn't about to go chasing endlessly after someone who was making it extraordinarily clear that they weren't interested.

“What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” Stiles asked. Because if Derek was just uninterested, there was no reason to ignore Stiles like a childish prank. Stiles almost expected his alpha to comment on a cold breeze or a ghost.

Stiles felt his eyes flash purple with spark magic as he telepathically yanked on Derek’s hair.

“Ow!” Derek yelped. And then in one of the oddest displays that Stiles had ever witnessed, “Piece of shit fuck.”

“Serves you right.” Jackson snarked on Stiles’ behalf. “Stiles cooked for us all and you’re being childish.”

“Well, I’m not about to apologise.” Derek asserted, looking oddly smug.

“You don’t have to apologise, but you also don’t have to be a dick.” Allison snarked.

“If you hate my personality that much, you can just leave.”

“Woah!” Boyd said, cutting in on Derek’s suddenly crabbily bitchy mood. “Derek, go cool off.”

Derek looked stricken. “I-I,” It looked like he was about to apologise. “I have to go!”

Stiles made a soft sound of protest, still hurt and puzzled but not wanting Derek to go. “I made raspberry pie! It’s your favourite!”

“Maybe another time, Stiles.” Derek said bleakly, before storming down the hall towards his bedroom.

And that was that. Stiles didn’t see Derek for the rest of the night. The pack finished their meals and pie, though Stiles made sure to set two slices aside of the raspberry one for Derek later. Even though Derek’s behaviour was deplorable over dinner, he deserved a piece. Okay, perhaps he didn’t, but Stiles could never deprive Derek of anything. Derek had been stripped of everything; family, a career, a love life. What was a few slices of pie for a grumpy alpha?

Stiles stacked the dishwasher as everyone left, and was right behind them once the kitchen was mostly clean.

 

* * *

 

 

“Erica, are you excited for your birthday?”

“I’m turning 18, Stiles, not eight.”

“Oh, come on!” Stiles cheered, egging her on. “If you agree to a party, I’ll make you any cake you want.”

“Vanilla-strawberry triple layer cheesecake?” Erica gasped.

“If that’s what you want!” Stiles enthused, making that cake would be a labour of love. Emphasis on the word labour. “But you must have a party.”

“Does it have to be a big one?”

“No, Erica, whatever you’re comfortable with, but it’s your birthday and you deserve a celebration.”

“But...” Erica said quietly.

“You and Boyd still haven’t made up yet?”

“No.”

“Will you tell me what actually happened now?”

“It’s so fucking stupid, I wanted to make out at this party, but he wanted to go play fuck, marry, kill.”

“So, you’re mad at him because he didn’t want to make out with you. Erica, you know Boyd adores you.” Stiles tried to reason.

“I-I know, but I was mad about that and I was mad because everyone else was happy and grabby and tipsy and he wanted to play some stupid game.”

“Erica, what did you do?” The regret was evident in her tone, so Stiles knew that she must have done or said something awful that she felt repentant about.

“When someone asked me, fuck, marry, kill between Idris Elba, Zac Efron and Boyd. I-I said I’d kill Efron, marry Elba and fuck _off_ Boyd.”

“Oh, Erica. You told him to fuck off?”

“I know it was dumb, but he’s barely looked at me since it happened. I thought it would blow over quickly.” Erica pressed her painted lips together, a sign of fear and anxiety.

“Erica, he probably wanted to play the game, to show off how hot you are. Boyd was always invisible but you’re the centre of attention now, he probably feels like he has something to prove. He’s embarrassed.”

“But I didn’t mean it!”

“Erica, at school you have a general no-PDA rule, and he went as your date to a high school party and you told him to fuck off in front of a group.”

“Everyone did laugh...”

“He’ll come to your party, he wouldn’t leave you alone on your birthday, but you have to find a way to make this up to him.”

“Thanks, Stiles.” Erica said, and it was clear that she was reluctant to accept Stiles’ advice, but she knew her friend was right. “I appreciate the tough love.”

She reached in to hug Stiles and he laughed. “I know the truth,” he said as he hugged her back firmly. “You just wanted to get to hug the yummy magic spark.”

“You just...smell nice.”

“I know, now we'll have a party, so tell Derek we're commandeering his loft next weekend.”

“Why can’t you tell him?” Erica complained. “He always says yes when you ask him.”

“That’s dumb and you know it. I’m in the pack so he agrees when I say I’m making food for everyone. But I’m barely on the fringe of the pack.”

“You keep saying that, Stiles. Not a single other pack member agrees but...”

“But Derek, you know - the Alpha, he’s never said anything. He’s never told me I was pack but I’m going to be involved until Derek tells me explicitly that I’m not in the pack.” Stiles admitted, almost ashamed.

“You know that Derek only hasn’t said you’re in the pack because he doesn’t know that there are any doubts in the first place that he needs to counteract.”

“So, great plan, by this time next week, you talk to Boyd and I’ll talk to Derek about my position in the Hale pack.”

“No... wait!” Erica started.

Stiles stood up smoothly and raced away before Erica could complete her protest. It would suck to have to ask Derek if he was really in the pack, no matter the response, it would be humiliating to expose his own insecurities like that.

But he would, because he had to know for real, Derek had treated him so badly, at the last pack meeting, but Derek was always so warm, so kind to everyone and he must just have had a bad night. He’d seemed fine earlier, but it might have been a cover, or possibly something someone said triggered his vicious mood.

 

But even at his lowest, Derek had never been able to stay mad at Stiles for very long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, when Stiles says Derek's comment was "very CS Lewis", he was referencing this quote:  
>  _You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body._  
>  Which is very often misattributed to CS Lewis


	2. If you listen at doors, you hear what you deserve.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica's party! But, not everyone is having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!!!!  
> Slight mention of non-graphic panic attacks in this chapter so if the associated experience is a trigger for you, give this chapter a skip.
> 
> Please leave me a comment!

Stiles had been wrong, so wrong. Because, against any existing statistical evidence, Derek was still angry for something Stiles wasn’t even sure he’d done.

“What do you mean you didn’t get any of the ingredients for me to make Erica’s cake? The party is tomorrow, and everything is closed.”

It was 9pm and Stiles had to prepare the strawberry and vanilla layers for the triple layer cheesecake, so they could set overnight before he cut them together and decorated tomorrow before the party.

Derek, who had verbally promised Stiles that he’d buy all the ingredients was sitting back, playing gardenscapes and ignoring Stiles’ outrage.

“But, you said you would, you said it wasn’t a problem and you’d get it done right away.”

“Well, I had plans so your little errand...got bumped.”

“Errand?” Stiles said, voice cracking audibly. “I... I promised Erica that if she agreed to have a birthday party. A practical rite of passage for any and every eighteen-year-old, I’d make her a birthday cake. And you,  _ you _ promised  _ me  _ that you’d get me everything I needed to make the vanilla-strawberry cake.”

A jangling sound came from the lock of the house, and Derek jumped, as though he wasn’t expecting it. Which was ridiculous, as it would take something incredible to distract Derek enough to completely undermine his supernatural abilities.

“Peter?” Derek called.

There was a distinct rustle of plastic bags and Peter came waltzing in through the door.

“Stiles.” Peter deadpanned, looking like a shockingly improbable mix of amused and irate. “I brought you some ingredients.”

“What?” Stiles was thrilled but confused as he grabbed the bags off of Peter, rummaging through them cursorily to check that everything he needed was in them. It was.

“I uhm.” Peter said, still sounding like he wasn’t bothered whatsoever by the fact that sounded awkward and stilted. “I overheard your conversation and I just knew that Derek would let you down.”

“How could you possibly have known that? How could you have even suspected that?” Stiles said, mouth agape in proxy outrage. “Derek has never let anyone down when it matters. He’s a great person.”

Peter was looking over his shoulder and Stiles spun around but Derek didn’t seem to be moving.

“Derek is an awful person.” Peter deadpans again, sounding so incredibly insincere that Stiles felt confused.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked, whipping his head between the nephew and uncle. Peter was talking about Derek like he wasn’t even there, and Derek was just standing there, shirtless with some skinny jeans on and watching. Not moving at all. “Aren’t you going to defend yourself?”

“He’s right you know, I’m dangerous, I’m bad news.”

“You’ve both completely lost your minds!” Stiles yelled, giving up and grabbing the bags Peter had brought for him and going off to use Derek’s industrial-scale kitchen to whip up the sugary monstrosity that Erica had requested.

A few hours later, the separate cake layers were wrapped in several layers of glad wrap in individual pans and cooling in the fridge. Stiles had managed to cool off a bit and had eventually come to a realisation. Well, actually, the realisation came quickly but it took ages for Stiles to actually accept his fate. Derek  _ had _ understood his hint last Friday. Derek had understood everything and just decided to blank Stiles to get his response across. It was cruel and childish, and Stiles spent several minutes rage-whisking his egg whites by hand. Then he realised that Derek was only responding in kind to Stiles’ behaviour. Saying ‘I think this guy is crazy hot’ while pumping out arousal chemo signals that originated from Derek’s proximity exclusively wasn’t the most mature route that Stiles could have taken. And it was a little easier after he admitted that to himself. Derek assumed that since Stiles didn’t have the balls to talk to Derek directly, the alpha didn’t need to extend him the courtesy of drawing him aside and turning him down gently. Stiles, in the lightest of his darker moments, could picture the most likely way that Derek would turn him down. In his darkest moments, Stiles imagined Derek throwing him bodily out of the pack, scorning him and staring at him with disgust and hatred.

But the way that he’d always believed Derek would really turn him down was more gentle.

“Oh, Stiles.” He’d say, and there would be pity in his tone. “I had no idea.”

“I’m sorry. Derek, I never meant for it to go this far.” Stiles would reply, and he would refuse to meet Derek’s beautiful galaxy eyes.

“So, it’s true, you’re in love with me.”

“Yes, and I know it isn’t mutual. But I can be friendly.” Stiles would promise, and his heart would break.

“Yes. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer if you stopped coming alone and unannounced to the house. You could understand why that would make me so uncomfortable.”

And that would be it.

Somehow this was worse, but also better because Stiles’ heartbreak could be done in private. He’d go to Derek’s house, the Packhouse, for Erica’s party and then he would start the long and tortuous process of removing himself from being Derek’s emissary. He’d fight with them if needed but it had been months and it was looking less and less likely that a fight would be a possibility ever again. So, since Stiles wasn’t even officially in the pack, he could hang out with his friends at school but not out of it.  Stiles would have to find something else to do on Friday nights, a new group to go shopping with, people who would help psyche him up before games and bankroll his elaborate cooking ventures.

So, long story short, after this weekend Stiles would be alone and friendless for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Stiles woke up, feeling groggy and out of sorts. He’d been up late into the night catastrophizing. What if Derek told everyone that Stiles was pathetic and disgusting, and Lydia used her powers of persuasion that worked on so many students in their years to magnify the perceived stalkerish nature of Stiles’ affections? Yes, Stiles had treated his crush on her all wrong, but he knew better now. The second he realised that what he felt for Derek surpassed friendship he put his own very clear, brutal boundaries in place.  Then when it surpassed a crush, dwarfing any ‘feelings’ he ever had for the strawberry blonde goddess, he cut himself back even further.

Stiles even had a list on the notes app on his phone.

_ Don’t get changed in the same room as Derek - no lacrosse or swimming if possible. _

_ Don’t sit next 2 him on movie nights _

_ NO TRUTH OR DARE _

_ NO spin the bottle _

_ No fuck marry kill _

_ NO 7 minutes in heaven _

_ No never have i ever _

Mostly it was written when Stiles was very drunk on Polish vodka. Very, very drunk. There were a lot of emojis on the original draft and an even longer list of teenage games that would compel him to admit secrets or even chance a kiss with Derek.

Stiles knew that one kiss would never, ever be enough.

And his detectable vitals would be enough to give away his emotions, at least the fact that he was at least somewhat emotionally invested. Jackson would mock him in that new, playfully friendly way of his, but would hit a nerve and it would be obvious to everyone why.

It was late morning already, but Stiles had only managed to scrape together the will to clamber inelegantly out of bed a few minutes ago.

Breakfast was one banana, one almost old enough to be combined into a banana bread.

Except it was only half an hour before noon, so it was more of a brunch at this point. Then Stiles went to familiarise himself with the other half of the recipe to assemble the cheesecake before the party, he didn’t want to risk his handwritten recipe book by taking it into Derek’s kitchen.

Every yard that Stiles drove from his house to the pack house felt like a step towards his own funeral. Just one more day of being able to pretend that nothing had changed, that he wasn’t unloved and going to be completely alone for the foreseeable future, going to lose all of his school friends and any social plans until either college or he found a new group of friends who would bother accepting him halfway through his final year of school. Everyone was more focused on grades at this point and had solidified friendship groups, not many people were willing and eager to be making new friends. All he’d have left are his drag queens and a few other friends he’d met clubbing.

There was a stinging sensation as his eyes flooded with salt water. Yes, after having to distance himself from the formal pack, he’d miss Derek, but he would also miss all of his friends. Allison, his sparring buddy, the only one with aim almost as accurate as his own. Erica was his shopping buddy, giving him an excuse to see rom coms in theatres. Boyd helped him prepare food, he wasn’t too much of a chef but enjoyed cutting vegetables and doing other small tasks that would allow them to spend some time in companionable silence. And Jackson, joking with him, the only person aside from Stiles who managed to make jokes about their old antagonistic relationship. The humour was the only thing that had managed to heal the old scars of endless torment, the joking punches and sarcastic  _ Stilinski’s _ that had made them into firm friends.

Even Peter, who helped him apply for different tertiary institutes and quizzed him with self-made flash cards.

Stiles parked on the veritable parking lot off the side of the pack house driveway. Jackson’s Porsche was already in there, obviously freshly waxed.

Stiles found the front door locked. Which was odd, and rather rude as he’d made sure to text Peter, who promised to leave the door unlocked.

A flash of his eyes, a whisper of  _ alohomora _ \- unnecessary but fun, and the door was open. The pack house looked empty, which was fine for Stiles’ purposes and he managed to assemble the cake quickly, decorating it and putting it back in the fridge within the hour.

A few hours later, and some of his packmates walked in. Jackson shot Stiles a grin and threw him a bag casually. Stiles almost went down under the weight.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked.

“Speakers and shit for the party, Boyd said he’d set them up and connect them, but he wanted me to bring mine, so Erica wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Those two are fucking ridiculous I swear.”

“I know, I know.” Jackson’s shoulders slumped in faux exhaustion. “I tried to tell him, but he thinks Erica is embarrassed to be seen with him, and he’s not here for that.”

“But, Erica isn’t embarrassed about him at all!”

“I tried to tell him that too. But Boyd is sort of a wallflower, while I’ve received twenty-seven messages today asking if I could get someone into Reyes’ birthday party. Boyd never tries to stop Erica from being flirty and the centre of attention, but she did sort of distance herself from him in a very public setting.”

“That’s really insightful of you, Jackson.” Stiles said, placing the bag of undoubtedly pricey speakers down before he dropped them.

“I know.” Jackson sighed. “Don’t tell anyone!”

Stiles laughed, then paused when Jackson’s gaze flew to the ceiling, listening carefully with his wolf senses.

“What is it?”

“Derek is asleep upstairs.” Jackson said blankly. “Derek!”

The alpha appeared at the top of the stairs, with low slung sweats and  _ sweet mother of heaven _ , Derek was totally freeballing it. That was his dick. Right there. Okay, not right there, but at the top of the stairs between Derek Hale’s glorious thighs.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” Derek grumbled, voice thick with sleep and disuse.

“Well,” Stiles began brightly. “We just came up early to set up for the party, I finished up the cake and everything a while ago, I didn’t even know you were home. The door was locked.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, for some reason looking solidly away from Stiles, avoiding eye contact. “I was up really late last night. Dancing, doing turnt.”

“Sorry, did you just say  _ doing _ turnt?” Stiles laughed.

“Yeah, whatever,” Derek breezed, “I totally forgot about  _ this  _ party, I was busy at the other party.”

“What?” Stiles said, part confusion, half outrage.

“It slipped my mind.”

“Derek, that’s bullshit, and you know it. I was here less than twenty-four hours ago making cheesecake that you also forgot the ingredients for.”

“I was occupied.”

“That’s a piss weak excuse!” Stiles shouted, temper ramping up. “If you didn’t want to have the party at your house, which I thought was the pack house, you could have just said!”

“Oh, it’s fine, you guys can throw the party here.”

“Gee, thanks asshole, especially since you agreed to this party last week.”

“Just shut fuck all the way up.”

“Whatever.” Stiles was starting to think that Derek didn’t even know how to use swear words in a sentence.

Stiles went back into the kitchen, busying himself by arranging the platters of food as the others arrived, including Boyd and Erica who were stepping around each other even more carefully now that the tension of Stiles and Derek’s fight was fresh in the air. Stiles overheard Jackson explain what had happened and before Stiles knew it, the real party had started.

The music pumping out of Jackson’s speakers was so loud that Stiles couldn’t breathe, he felt overwhelmed by agony and the loss of both a friendship and a future something, a future maybe. He didn’t want to answer any questioning faces, so he let his spark take over. Stiles had suffered countless panic attacks over his life, some because of direct triggers like the scent of chlorine when the pool cleaner truck was in an accident outside the school parking lot, or Melissa wearing his mum’s perfume. But so many of his panic attacks were just because everything felt heightened and it was all just too much. Like the bad moments of his day stacked up and up until the whisper of his own shirt against his throat felt like it was choking him, and the air was cotton wool thick.

It was so much easier once he calmed down enough to become invisible, with a flash of his eyes, he could piece himself back together in peace. People’s eyes slid past him instead of examining his laboured breath like some sort of revolting insect on the underside of a rolled newspaper; it was freeing. Now, all Stiles needed was to get out of the cacophony of the main room, another spell willed into existence and he was scentless. Meaning he could just go and take a breather in Derek’s room, where the walls were blessedly soundproof, and he could gather himself together and calm down before leaving.

But Stiles hadn’t been in the room for more than a few moments before a couple walked in, and it took him several moments to remember he was invisible and unscented as well as recognise the two of them. They weren’t a couple, it was Derek and Erica. Derek switched on the light and Erica sighed dramatically.

“With all due respect Derek, this cloak and dagger routine is just a waste of both of our time, I can’t smell Stiles, I’m pretty sure he left after the way you spoke to him. Derek, that was totally out of line!”

“I have to be sure, and you can’t tell Stiles any of this.”

“Tell him any of what, Derek?” Erica spat, and Stiles felt somewhat heartened that at least one person was on his side.

Stiles stood up from where he had curled up in the corner, stepping closer to better hear the conversation, silencing his heartbeat so neither of the wolves could hear that either. It was worth risking being exposed by the flash of violet.

“Uh, this is for you, for your birthday.”

“You got me something?”

“Of course, Erica.” Derek said emphatically, almost as strong as he’d insisted that he’d forgotten about the birthday all together. “You’re my beta. And my friend.”

There was a framed photo of Laura with Derek and Cora in the preserve that hung in Derek’s living room. Cora was giving her big brother a piggyback ride and all three siblings were very purposefully looking away from the camera. Laura was wearing a longer black leather jacket with her arms crossed firmly.

Stiles had seen this photo so many times, that he recognised the leather jacket the second Derek took it out of the bag on his bedside floor.

“Derek, is this...Laura’s?” Erica said, awed.

“I know you admired the jacket as well as my sister’s ambitious nature.”

“I can’t possibly accept this.” Erica murmured, on the verge of tears.

“Yes, you can, Erica, Laura would have hated for her jacket to just sit in a box, she was never the sort of person to have a set of plates just for special occasions and she felt the same about every aspect of her life.”

“Well, it probably won’t even fit, we’re different sizes.” Erica protested weakly.

“I know, I altered the fit myself.”

Erica took the jacket with trembling fingers and Stiles quite felt that he needed to sit down and put his head between his knees, blood rushing to his head.

“Derek it’s beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you like it, happy eighteenth.”

“This must have taken months to tailor and everything, why did you pretend that you forgot about the party?”

“I-I” Derek stuttered, and Stiles stepped closer, eager to hear the answer as much as Erica. “I didn’t want Stiles to know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, you were so adamant that you were a shitty...” Erica looked like someone had slapped her. “Oh, dear god, Derek you can’t be fucking serious. That’s a bad plan and it won’t work. Try actually telling him how he’s making you feel.”

“I couldn’t, Erica.”

“You can, and you will, or I’ll tell him.”

Stiles stumbled away from the two of them, narrowly avoiding whacking into Derek’s wardrobe doors. Erica, the Catwoman to his Batman was encouraging Derek to verbally kick him out of the pack. Erica didn’t even make a tiny attempt to defend Stiles’ position. Even if he wasn’t the most popular pack member, Stiles was friendly, and he cooked dinner more often than not. He had his uses. But apparently, even those he thought were his personal friends, not just packmates, were just waiting to kick him out.

Stiles yanked open the bedroom door, not caring that it would look odd to the two werewolves and ran out, the door slamming shut in his wake. The panic attack was so bad that Stiles barely managed to collapse in the back of his jeep before his breathing all but stopped. Chest constricting to the point that air only came in through harried pants of breath. It lasted less than a quarter of an hour but felt like an absolute eternity. The second Stiles’ breathing pattern evened out, he clambered awkwardly out of the back of his car and into the driver’s seat, eager for an escape.

Stiles parked and was in the door to his own home within seconds. He slammed the door behind him and took in deep breathes, trying to make sure that his panic attack didn’t return. Focused on his own breathing so intently that his first warning was the cocking of a gun. Stiles looked up into the cold face of his father.

“I can’t see you, but I know you’re there.” The Sheriff spat. “These are iron bullets with a rock salt-wolfsbane core, so unless you’re oh-for-three in the supernatural trifecta, it’s in your best interest to get the hell out.”

It took Stiles several panicked moments to realise that, while his silence charm had worn off, his gasps echoing loudly through the house, he was still very much invisible. It made sense, since he was completely lucid when turning invisible but on the verge of panicking when he silenced himself.

“Dad!” Stiles all but sobbed, turning visible and throwing himself into his dad’s arms.

“Oh, fuck, Stiles.” The Sheriff turned the safety back on and threw his gun onto the floor. “Shit, I almost shot you!”

Stiles was visibly shaking now, not wanting to look up and have to discuss what he’d been through that night.

“Woah, what’s wrong, what’s going on?”

“I-I can’t tell you, but it’s nothing bad, I just need to go to bed.”

“Son, you’re upset, and you were upset before you got in here, before I almost shot you.”

“Please? I can’t talk about this, not now.”

“Stiles...”

“Later? Please? Just, it’s too much.”

Stiles’ dad looked like he was on the verge of protesting before he sighed and stepped back, clearing the way for Stiles to all but run up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room.

Stiles only managed to remove his shoes before climbing under his covers, then taking a moment to wiggle out of his jeans. Stiles just needed to take maybe twenty-four hours to come to terms with how awfully he’d been treated, how undervalued he was for his role within the Hale pack before he’d be able to face his old friends with a stony face. And the best way to start that off, was to take a really nice sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY MAYBE I'M SLIGHTLY SORRY FOR THE AGONY  
> [Derrickhale](piesexual.co.vu) is my tumblr  
> Alohormora - spell from the Harry Potter universe to unlock any door  
> Gardenscapes - a phone game i have a slight problem with


	3. How do you get dick from Richard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Stiles' semi-self-imposed exile doesn't have to be entirely awful, it might be a good time to reconnect with old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!  
> Next chapter, next Monday, we're halfway there

Stiles woke up in that urgent, instant kind of way, not knowing where he was or what day. His mouth and his head felt like they were full of cotton wool and almost his entire body was slick with sweat from being almost fully clothed underneath several blankets. Exams were last week, meaning that this week would be movie watching, with incredibly thin connections to the syllabus. The history teacher would probably put on Pride and Prejudice again, because it’s historically accurate, doesn’t matter that they were studying mummies this year. It’s possible Ötzi would brighten up the film anyways.

Stiles felt exhausted even though he’d just woken up, and before he even looked in the mirror, he knew that he would have deep bags underneath his dry, red eyes. He almost felt like he was having an out of body experience, like those were someone else’s hands packing his school bag, someone else picking a nectarine from the fruit bowl, testing for bruises with the tips of their fingers.

Stiles’ weird mood had dissipated by the time that Roscoe rolled reluctantly into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High. He still felt rather down and was silently dreading the first instance of seeing his friends and having to ignore them. But that was preferable over knowing that they were all conspiring with Derek to try and kick him out of the pack and sitting with them over lunch and in the few classes he shared with one of the werewolves. And for the first time in a while, the fact that he would be more isolated was a good thing, as there would be a lot of opportunity for interrogation during the all-day film festival that was every day the final week of classes.

Stiles didn’t see any members of the Hale pack for the entire day, eating lunch in a shadowy corner of the library. At one point he saw the gentle slope of the back of Boyd’s head and realised that he still must be avoiding Erica. Talking to her in the cafeteria about their fight seemed like an age ago, even though it had only been just under a week since. Stiles took two steps towards his friend with the intention of smoothing out the argument between the two werewolves. Then the spark remembered two things.

Firstly: it is _always_ a bad idea to interfere with anyone’s relationships. Especially since Stiles had only heard one side of the problem and everyone tried to paint themselves in the best possible light when relaying the events of a fight. Even though Erica had been fair-sounding and acknowledged that she’d done something wrong, and was just too embarrassed to confront Boyd about it.

Secondly: Stiles didn’t want to get involved in pack drama, especially when he was in the process of distancing himself from the pack.  If he spoke to Boyd and then Boyd mentioned to any of the others that Stiles was giving away secrets or being meddlesome then that could lead to a confrontation at best. At worst, Stiles might get brained by parts of his Jeep. Again.

Unfortunately, as Stiles was leaving the library, he ran straight into Allison, Lydia and Erica. It took more willpower than it probably should have to hold back a scream of frustration at the futility of his attempt to avoid the entire Hale pack.

“Stiles!” Allison said brightly, her infamous dimples making an appearance. “We were looking all over for you!”

“Stiles,” Lydia said in her tense tone that told Stiles immediately that she’d gotten into an argument with Jackson. “You really need to make sure to do your homework at home so that when I need you I don’t have to go to so much effort to find you.”

“You’re free this afternoon, right?” Erica chirped, “We all agreed that we’re willing to see the crime film with you, that you were so pumped about last week if you come and drive us to the Sioux Falls mall, they’re opening a new NARS store there and we _have_ to go.”

“We’ll pay for dinner! And I’ll bankroll you for a makeover, I noticed you were overly interested last time you went us to Sephora, and I think this would be a great way to experiment, especially as we won’t see anyone we know!” Lydia promised, and Stiles flushed pink as he backed away from them slowly. He didn’t know that they’d noticed him covertly trying to shade match a foundation.

“But!” Allison cut back in, looking insanely thrilled. “Not that you should ever be ashamed of wanting to try out something ‘feminine’, but we don’t want like Isaac or something rocking up out of nowhere and ruining your fun.”

“Uh…” Stiles said dumbly, having backed up to an awkward distance for a conversation. Any other day, Stiles would have leaped for the opportunity to watch an awesome film, get free food and test out some makeup applied by an honest-to-god professional. And maybe in a few months he could do something similar with Lydia and Allison. But not Erica, all Stiles felt when he saw was the icy cold sting of betrayal. Erica, though she’d always struck Stiles as insecure but ultimately genuine, but he knew now that she had changed even more than anyone else would ever be able to tell. Erica had decided that her place in the pack was much more important than any sort of loyalty to Stiles on any level. And even if Erica hadn’t been involved with the proposed expedition, Stiles really, desperately needed a little more time, just to let the emotional bruises fade from black and blue to pale yellow.

It hurt a lot that Derek didn’t want Stiles in any context closer than a packmate, but Derek was a closed book, Isaac had been living with the man for going on three years now and he had less idea than Stiles what to get their fearless leader for Christmas. But Erica, Erica had showed up weekend after weekend to voluntarily spend hour after hour with Stiles. Sometimes there was a reluctant Boyd in tow or an overeager Allison but, Erica had acted so much more like a friend than just a pack mate, and even now, after she’d basically agreed that Derek should abandon Stiles, she was inviting him out.

“Uh, no.” Stiles blurted out, being entirely incapable of saying anything even fractionally more intelligent. “I uh, have plans with Rick.”

“Rick, is that one of your friends…” Allison asked, seeming soft in her surprise.

“From Poisonous Peach? Yes.” In actuality, Stiles hadn’t seen Rick in just over a fortnight, but he had been tossing around the idea of them hanging out soon. You know what they say. No time like the present.

“Oh,” Erica said, clearly disappointed. “Next time?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Stiles didn’t even bother trying for an excuse as he bolted.

 

* * *

 

It was purely good fortune that when Stiles texted Rick that afternoon, that his vivacious new friend didn’t have any plans for that very night. It might have been Monday evening but since it was the last week of school anyways, he was more than gleefully happy at the opportunity to take Stiles clubbing.

 _dude yes!,_ was Rick’s near-immediate reply to Stiles’ text asking if he was free to go clubbing with him.

You’re like the best wingman ever!!!! As if I’d turn down an opportunity to party with you. Came quickly after that, coupled with the eggplant emoji.

And sorry for the last minute plans, I just really need to have some fun tonight. Stiles wrote back.

No sweat we can talk about it OR not talk about it very pointedly later

I choose the not

Done. See you at Peach around seven.

Stiles’ fake ID didn’t work in any of Beacon Hills’ clubs, except for Jungle, which was coincidentally the only Beacon Hills club that had never needed an extended police presence. Apparently, if a club had enough visits from Sheriff Stilinski, he started showing them pictures of Stiles.

So, if Stiles wanted to go to a club where he could drink _and_ not have everyone he so much as danced with frightened away by an overbearing but ultimately well-meaning trio of drag queens, he had to leave town.

So, that afternoon, instead of waiting to drive any of his pack mates home, Stiles was actually first out of the school parking lot. He got dressed up in his clubbing clothes, wishing he had something acceptable to wear that Lydia hadn’t chosen and purchased for him.

He met Rick a few blocks away from the club, having decided to catch a bus there because once Stiles left the Poisonous Peach he wasn’t planning on being even sort of capable of driving. He wanted to get absolutely keel-over smashed before midnight.

Rick was the kind of guy you could pass a hundred times in the street and never recognise, he was so generic looking. Except whenever he dressed up, or down, rather. Stiles’ clubbing friend had the rippling abs and chiselled arms of a werewolf, even though he had, once upon a time, enlisted Erica’s help to vet that his friend was actually human and didn’t have any supernatural assistance for his insane body.

But no, apparently someone _human_ had the discipline to work out every second day and monitor what he ate until he had enough tiny bumps on his stomach to mimic a chocolate bar.

“Stiles, the fact that you compare my six pack to a chocolate bar every single time we meet is probably at least part of the reason that you don’t have chocolate bar abs.”

“Damn it Rick.” Stiles said, as he started to laugh, his spare hand clapping onto his friend’s shoulder for support as they rounded the corner to the club entrance, the neon sign casting a green-blue glow over the crowd lining up to have their ID checked by the bouncers.

The club glittered with drunken joy, the energetic dancing causing the dance floor to throb and sway to the beat of some two-year-old pop song. Stiles immediately went to the bar, ordering a drink he knew was about three shots worth of alcohol in a blue, syrupy cup.

Rick wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist from behind. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were serious about getting trashed tonight.” He breathed right in Stiles’ ear. “And while I’m always thrilled to get laid with you, we will be discussing this at a later time.” Stiles huffed out a laugh as he tossed back a solid third of his cocktail. Despite the fact that Stiles was only Rick’s wingman, his friend always spoke about it as though Stiles was a little more involved within the actual orgasm portion of the picking up.

After an hour of dancing, Stiles could feel the how his tipsy dancing had lead to enough sweat the stick his already skin-tight shirt to his back in a smooth layer. He made quick eye contact with Rick, who had a petite girl grinding up on him. Then, Stiles felt his magic prickle up inside him like alarm bells, a supernatural equivalent to having his hair stand on end. Quickly, the spark swept the room, trying to locate who was watching him with enough scrutiny to cause his magic to fire up. Even if it wasn’t meant in threat, the flare up of magic in response was enough to completely dissipate any alcohol in Stiles’ system, leaving him sober and feeling awfully stupid in the middle of the dance floor. What he saw caused his magic to spike up even further, and he hoped desperately that no one noticed the flash of violet that he knew lit up his brown eyes.

Isaac and Allison stood next to each other, Allison’s fists planted firmly on her leather-clad hips and Isaac’s arms crossed to the point of making his biceps bulge. The two of them had clearly decided to follow Stiles to the club they knew he would be at.  Apparently, Rick was a good enough friend that he gently extracted himself from the petite girl and came to Stiles’ aide, despite the lack of any confrontation, although it was possible that there was one imminent.

“Stiles, what’s wrong.” His friend asked, eyes following Stiles’ path to see Stiles’ friends straight up staring at Rick with animosity that was alien on their supermodel-esque faces. Their untouched alcoholic drinks sitting on the bar next to them.

“Do you know those people, because if you don’t, I’ve somehow managed to become arch enemies with two people I’ve never seen before.”

“They-” Stiles was speechless in his fury. “They knew I was going to be here and they have the fucking nerve to show up and… and I don’t even know what they were trying for to be honest.”

“Hey, Stiles, fuck those two.” Rick said, and Stiles knew that it was loud enough for Isaac at least to have heard every word. Serves him right. Maybe Isaac wasn’t involved initially but he could go drown himself if he thought menacing Stiles and intimidating him after following him a town over was going to fly with the son of the Sheriff. Stiles made a mental note to mention this to his dad, because there was no reason for Isaac to be following him around with or without Allison. Unless Derek had sent them, or they’d decided to what, check up on Stiles’ reason that he couldn’t go shopping with the girls? Hopefully, Stiles’ dad could shed some light on the situation.

God, the two of them weren’t even pretending to be there coincidentally, they just stayed stock still, watching Stiles with their eyes, sending his powers into enough of a tizzy that it was now completely impossible to remain even the smallest bit tipsy.

“And don’t worry.” Rick added after a moment. “You can get me off later.” Stiles didn’t even have the energy to laugh at their running joke.

Fuck. Stiles was so glad that he a friend as good as Rick, putting Stiles’ emotional wellbeing before his own sexual exploits. When Scott was still in Beacon Hills, he hardly ever put Stiles’ _physical_ wellbeing before getting laid.

“So, which one of those two is Derek?” Rick asked.

“Neither.” Stiles said sullenly, “And Allison is a girl.”

“Well to be honest, all you’ve really told me about ‘Derek’ was that he was the most beautiful person inside and out. I kind of assumed it was a nickname. So, I wouldn’t embarrass you if I ever ran into him, or you were really trying to throw me off and Derek was a girl.”

“No, Derek is a dude,” Stiles said, laughing softly. “And he’s hotter than those two.”

Rick whistled lowly. “Hotter than those two? Wow, you really do have high standards, don’t you, dude?”

“Don’t worry, I’m over him.” Stiles knew he couldn’t convince Rick.

“He found out? Didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Stiles admitted reluctantly.

“Well, let’s get out of here.”

“But what about that girl you were dancing with? And, we’ve only been here for like an hour.”

“Fuck that, Stiles I don’t know what happened with you but I’m taking you home.”

“Thanks.” Stiles said quietly, allowing his friend to drag him off towards the exit.

Stiles’ phone buzzed animatedly in his pocket, and he ignored it until Rick and he got on the night bus back to Beacon Hills, tucked up together, sharing a double seat down the back to avoid the aggressively drunk college seniors. They were shouting at the clearly younger college girl holding red stilettos by the straps. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the yelling, but Stiles felt as though he might start screaming if he was given any sort of outlet for his grab-bag of negative emotions.

There were four messages on his phone

**Isaac**

hey _where did u go???? ☹_

_R u still here_

**Allison**

Stilesss

_Stiles where u at_

 

Stiles wrote out a new message

_Had to bounce_

And sent it as his reply to both sets of texts.

Stiles felt as though his world was cracking in two, but he did not deserve Derek sending a battalion of flying monkeys after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ötzi is an ice mummy who lived between 3400 and 3100 BC.  
> Rick may have been named after Nathan Fillion's character in Castle. Maybe. 
> 
> Tumblr: derrickhale  
> [Reblog here (tumblr post)](http://piesexual.co.vu/post/168171406066/bad-boys-not-bad-news-ao3-frostedgoddess-17k)


	4. Stiles and Jackson: BFFTLEWE (Best Friends For Totally Like Ever, Without Exception)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson gives Stiles a Firm Talking To™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!! It is 7:30 am on Christmas morning and here I am, a fucking loser, posting chapter 4, because I feel loyal to get my fic out on schedule but tbh I should have checked that Christmas wasn't a Monday when I said I'd post on Mondays.

“Stiles, hey!” Jackson called out from the driver’s seat of his cherry-hued sports car as Stiles walked from the bus stop towards his home on Tuesday.

“Uh, hey dude.” Stiles moved his hand to wave and made to halfway before changing his mind, resulting in an awkward tic of a half-wave.

“I waited for you for like twenty minutes in the parking lot.”

“But-but I wasn’t even at lacrosse.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been driving you home for months, I wasn’t going to just ditch you. Even though you’ve been avoiding me for two days.”

“Uh, thank you? But I think I’m okay.”

“Yeah, we’re like two blocks from your house, Stiles, get in the fucking Porsche.”

“Don’t you mean Porsche-ah?” Stiles said weakly, attempting vaguely at a light-hearted rib at his old nemesis as well as a pop culture reference.

“In. The. Car.”

Stiles made a face at Jackson, pouting obscenely, “Whatever.” He attempted blasély, “If you’re so desperate to drive me two blocks, who am I to turn you down?”

Jackson gestured to the passenger side door and Stiles went around to clamber awkwardly into the side seat. Jackson immediately pressed a button and the doors all locked.

Stiles struggled futilely with his door handle. “Jax, what the hell, man?”

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I really am, Alpha’s orders.”

“ _ Derek _ ?!” Stiles yelped in alarm as Jackson turned the car around, facing away from Stiles’ house and his nice, wolfsbane-lined bedroom and towards the pack house. “No, no, please, let me out!”

“Stiles, it’s totally your business if you want out of the pack, but Derek and the others still really want to try and convince you not to.”

“No, I promise, I’ll still fight to defend truth, justice and the Beacon Hill’s way, I just can’t be in the social half of the pack anymore.”

Jackson breathed in sharply through his teeth, making a short, high-pitched whistle. “Just like that, huh?” He said lowly.

Stiles peered over at his friend curiously. “Like what?”

“After everything we’ve been through together, you’re just ditching all of us because you and Derek are having a tiff.”

“It’s a little more serious than a tiff, Jackson. And I know Erica agrees that I shouldn’t be in the pack anymore too, I heard her talking about it.”

“Well, fuck Erica, you’re more important than her. You’re a spark, she’s a random beta, I’d rather have you than her and I know Derek feels the same way, even if you’re mad at each other.”

“We’re not mad at each other, okay, Derek is mad at me and I have  _ some _ survival instincts.”

Jackson laughs at that. “What did you do to make Derek angry at you? That guy is a huge softie when it comes to you.”

“ _ What? _ ” Stiles squeaked. “He is not! Jackson, please just let me out of the car.”

“Oh, Spark Stiles.” Jackson trilled stupidly. “Please, tell me what you think of my plan.”

“Derek doesn’t sound like that.” Stiles attempted, feeling like he was missing the point.

But, Jackson wasn’t finished. “Why, yes Derek, I’m glad to tell you what I think, your plan to make me stay a mile back for safety is stupid, stupid and dumb!”

“I don’t sound like that either.” Stiles protested, but the words sounded exactly like what he would say; had been saying for months.

“Your safety is Derek’s priority.”

“Because he thinks I’m a liability.”

“No, he doesn’t, Stiles, you’re more powerful than the rest of us combined, he’s just worried about you being safe because you’re important to him.” Jackson said, hands tapping awkwardly on the steering wheel.

“Shut up!” Stiles yelled, and both boys were shocked at the furious vehemence in Stiles’ voice. “You weren’t there, you didn’t hear what they said.”

“Wait, Stiles, what are you talking about?”

“Didn’t Derek tell all of you? Well I guess, Erica figured out both sides of the equation all out by herself.” Stiles trailed off gently, glad to a certain degree that Derek and Erica were mostly alone in their decision to try and abandon Stiles.

“Figured what out? What equation? Stiles, can you just be clear for two seconds?”

“I-I like Derek, I’ve had a crush on him for a while.”

“Whaaaaat?” Jackson attempted, but the pitch of his voice went up far too high for his surprise to be genuine.

“You knew.” Stiles returned flatly, it wasn’t a question at all.

“Yeah,” Jackson said with a sigh, “You and I are better friends now than you and McCall were. I know your scent in every situation better than anyone else in the pack.”

“You can smell my crush?”

“What? No. That’s ridiculous. I can smell your joy and notice how much more relaxed you are when we’re with Derek. You trust him and that is something pretty obvious.”

“Okay, good, because I figured I was keeping it under wraps pretty well but all of that would be out of the window if everyone could smell it on me.”

“Stiles, so Erica figured out that you like Derek, how does that translate to you avoiding all of us for like half a week?”

“Well, at Erica’s party I heard her say to Derek that he should confront me and just go ahead and tell me to back off and leave him alone because he figured out that I liked him a week ago when I said I thought that model was hot, the model that looked like a discount, off-brand Derek knock-off.”

“Oh boy.” Jackson sighed.

There was a momentary lull in conversation as Jackson reverse parked into an empty parking spot off of the driveway of the Hale pack house.

“Why are we here?” Stiles said, feeling panic rise like bile, burning up the back of his throat. “Jackson, please, please I can’t handle having to hear this right to my face.”

“Stiles, please trust me? You’ve misunderstood. The pack is falling apart without you.”

“What?” Stiles breathed, stilling where he sat in place shotgun of the Porsche. The information shocking him into silence and out of motion.

“Just come inside and you’ll see. Isaac is having nightmares again, Erica is being more of a bitch than usual, while Boyd is talking even less than before.”

As Jackson paused for breath, Stiles cut in, “They’re still fighting?”

“Yes, and Lydia prefixes everything she says with ‘everyone present is too dumb to comprehend this but…’ and uses stupidly big words so that no one can! And not to mention Derek, who you think is just sitting in there waiting to turf you out on the streets, he…” Jackson paused to breathe, his pecs straining momentarily against his polo shirt as he tried to steady his nerves.

Stiles watched as his friend tilted his head to the side, erasing the sound shadow that would prevent his perfect werewolf hearing from detecting movement and speech patterns in the pack house.

“Derek is devastated.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles said, having expected...well he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was expecting but that simple sentence certainly wasn’t it.

“I mean Derek hasn’t said much of anything to anyone since Erica’s party, but he just smells so fucking sad and,” Jackson paused for breath, thinking through what he was about to say, tilting his head again for a moment, checking for eavesdropping werewolves in the distance.

“And?” Stiles prompted, feeling irate at the entire situation. In the past week alone, he’d been booted, rejected, and now kidnapped. He wasn’t in the mood for dramatic, suspenseful pauses.

“Stiles, Derek thinks none of the betas have realised, but he’s lost his alpha shift.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles squawked, scrambling frenetically to undo his seatbelt. He and Derek had worked together one on one for over three whole months to get Derek full control over his alpha form. Weeks and weeks of theoretical research so that both of them understood how and why Derek turned into a giant wolf whenever they got a little closer to death than life in a life or death situation. But it was only the second time in a fight when the fact that Derek was trapped in a scary but completely incommunicado canine became a hindrance rather than a lupus ex Machina. And there were countless situations that Stiles could catastrophize where Derek’s alpha powers could help prevent the death part of a life or death fight pre-emptively.

They had both worked so hard to create and perfect Derek’s control until the alpha could stand watching a witch hold a shard of glass to Stiles’ throat and barely twitch. And, more enjoyably, Derek could relax enough to go out into the preserve and play fetch in the form of a gigantic wolf. Derek even graciously put up with Stiles’ pettings and returned the (literal) pet names with nothing more than a lolling tongue.

It was those countless hours spent in silence and quiet chatter that have given Stiles hope to begin with that maybe someday Derek could learn to see his as something more than an annoying sidekick.

But entirely separate from Stiles’ utter and complete infatuation with Derek Hale, there was a sense of professional pride in all the work that both of them had put into learning how to perfect the alpha transformation.

“Stiles, Stiles.” Jackson said in a hushed tone. “They know we’re here now. But don’t say anything to Derek, he thinks no one has noticed. He used to spend half our training sessions as a wolf, but we haven’t even seen his fangs in like a week.”

“Wait, why did he make you bring me here if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s not going alpha?”

“This is your intervention.”

“A  _ what _ ?” Stiles almost wished he had a drink in hand, because this was the perfect opportunity for a spit take.

“You’ve been avoiding us all and no one knew why, honestly, we thought you’d decided that you were done putting your whole life on hold dealing with supernatural threats and protecting us when you weren’t tied to the pack as strictly as any of us wolves.”

“Jackson.” Stiles said, exhausted from the emotional whiplash, looking over towards the preserve. “If I try and run, what are the chances that you’d chase and catch me?”

“One.” Jackson said blankly. “Definitely.”

“Damn.” Stiles cursed under his breath, clambering out of the car as inelegantly as he’d gotten in. “Just for the record.” Stiles said, slightly louder than necessary so that the eavesdropping betas - who could hear him either way - knew that he was addressing them. “This is bullshit, you all suck and I don’t want to be here.” He finished before adding on, “You all also stink at taking hints.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and mutely grabbed Stiles around his bicep and began dragging him towards the house.

“Stiles." Isaac said quietly, the moment Stiles walked through the door. Maybe there was some truth to what Jackson had told him because the beta looked like he’d been dragged backwards through the entire preserve from dusk until dawn, keeping him awake. “You’re here.” Alison was standing back a few feet, looking angry but in a way that Stiles knew was covering up some hurt.

Stiles snorted. “It’s not like I want to be here.”

No one really knew what to say to that, the complete abandonment of any social pretence on Stiles’ behalf in the face of their blatant kidnapping attempt shocking them into stillness. Peter, and Lydia were both inauspiciously absent.

 

“Alpha’s coming.” Erica said quietly, trying to meet Stiles’ eyes but he steadfastly avoided even looking at her, and hardly glancing even near her.

Stiles couldn’t hear anything but all the wolves in the room had their heads tilted ever so slightly to the back door. Less than a minute had passed before Stiles could hear the telltale sound of dry leaves crunching under the sound of rapid feet heading their way. Derek.

Fuck. Stiles had been indignant about Derek’s loss and ready to confront the Alpha only a few minutes ago but now his belly was filling with hot, sticky dread and Stiles knew that there was a panic attack on his horizon if he didn’t do something to calm down. He didn’t feel like explaining his fragile to a room full of people who may, or may not each be involved in attempting to kick him out of the pack he helped to grow from the ground up. And there is no way that they were about to let him leave since Jackson had gone to so much trouble to lure him here in the first place.

Stiles stepped quickly out of the room to get a water bottle out of the fridge. He held the sweating plastic against his throat and let the icy condensation cool him enough to let him feel like he could breathe again. He heard the back-door bang open and could almost feel his throat closing up again in anxiety.

“Is he here?” Derek asked quickly, clearly out of breath. Stiles hated himself a little more at the way his knees weakened at the sound of the alpha’s voice.

“Kitchen.” Isaac said quietly. “He’s furious.”

Stiles realised then that they didn’t know he could hear them. Werewolves, even ones that had once been human, seemed to only register that humans could hear less than them. So even speaking at slightly under the normal speaking register, most of them would assume that Stiles couldn’t hear a single word they said.

“Jackson.” Derek said flatly, “Did he say anything on the way over?”

“Yeah, that Erica is a fucking asshole. And so are you.” Jackson said, and Stiles sighed in relief. Even though Jackson had dragged him all the way out here, he was making a clear statement to Stiles that he was on his side. Jackson, Jackson realised that Stiles could hear them.

Derek didn’t say anything to that. Stiles decided that he should go back out into the living room before someone came to get him and realised he’d heard every word. It had been a boon in the past, the dramatic underestimation that even friendly werewolves had of human senses. Stiles had, in the past, gone to dramatic lengths to make it seem like he hadn’t heard ‘secret’ conversations, and he wasn’t about to spoil all of that now.

The lounges in the living room were shaped - rather cleverly like three-quarters of a circle so that everyone could see everyone else but that there was also room for people to leave and enter the corral with relative ease. This also meant that the wolves had the metaphorical jump on him and the only space left was between Derek and Jackson. There was even strategic stretching on Isaac and Erica’s part to take up any additional space that they could.

Stiles didn’t even have to think for a second to know that this was on purpose and the other pack members had obvious realised the still remaining camaraderie between Stiles and Jackson and realised that if they were going to force Stiles to sit next to the clear focus of his fury, that they would sweeten the deal with Jackson’s presence.

Stiles came to stand in front of Jackson and pointed to the space that had been set aside for Stiles. Jackson moved to sit next to Derek wordlessly, leaving a lovely, Stiles-sized gap between Jackson and the voluntarily mute Boyd instead. Much better. Derek made a sound of protest, but Stiles shot him such a venomous glare that he was fairly certain his eyes flashed purple for a moment.

“Stiles.” Derek said, and immediately, tension drained out of Stiles. For the first time, Stiles thought that maybe what Jackson said in the car might have been right. Derek sounded distraught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: derrickhale  
> [Reblog here (tumblr post)](http://piesexual.co.vu/post/168171406066/bad-boys-not-bad-news-ao3-frostedgoddess-17k)


	5. Rarely pure, never simple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one (pretty short), chapter left after this, and sorry it's a day late but yesterday was New Year's and I went to bed at like 3. It wasn't even my bed so I didn't have wifi set up.

“What, Derek, what?” Stiles asked, words harsh but his tone a lot more gentle than it would have been if Derek didn’t sound so _wrecked_.

“Please, don’t punish the pack for my mistake.”

And there was the anger again. “Mistake? Derek, you didn’t collect my coffee from the barista or eat my nectarines from the shared fridge. What you did to me, you did on purpose.”

“You’re right, Stiles, it wasn’t an accident, but I do regret it. I should have taken the hint the first time.”

“Stiles -” Erica began, Stiles immediately turning to glare burningly at her the moment he heard her petulant, bratty tone.

“Shut up.” Stiles told her. “I was so stupid thinking we were friends this whole time when you were siding with him since the very beginning.”

“Stiles.” Derek said, reaching around Jackson to place a hand on Stiles’ knee and looking stricken when Stiles flinched. Hard. “I don’t want there to be sides, I want us to be on the same side, just like it’s been these past few months. I promise, I’ll get over how I felt. I won’t lie to you and say it’s all already in the past, but we’re friends first, and I won’t bother you with my…my problem so you can still be friends with the rest of the pack and do everything you’re used to. I’ll understand if you don’t want to spend time with me. Like, one on one anymore.”

 

Stiles’ vision went violet at the edges with his rage, magic surging, and he stomped to his feet. “You’ll just casually ‘get over’ how you feel? What about how I feel? Don’t you think I’d be uncomfortable associating with you?”

Derek nodded, looking awfully sad. And it was that more than anything that helped Stiles snap out of his anger. For good this time, and he sunk back to his seat.

“Stiles, I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to think that if I became someone…that if I became what you were into that you’d ever be interested in me, romantically. Our friendship is something amazing all on its own and not a consolation prize because you don’t want to date a washed-up werewolf.”

 

Everyone was already looking at Stiles but squinted at him in marked concern at the complicated rhythm his heart pumped out at hearing that. “What do you mean dating?”

“Stiles, what do you mean, this is why we’re here.”

“No, we’re here because you were going to kick me out of the pack because I said…I said...”

“What? No!” Derek said horrified. “Kick you out? Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because I said I liked that hot model.”

Derek scowled harder than before. “He wasn’t even that good looking.”

“Are-are you _jealous_ of Stefano Sala?”

Jackson snorted, and Derek’s scowling gaze shifted to the beta.

“Stefano Sala? You know, Stiles mentioned him on the way over.” Jackson said, with false nonchalance.

“Jackson, don’t.” Stiles warned, anxiety thick. “Please.”

“Jackson, what is it?” Derek ordered. He was scowling even harder now. Stiles figured that the Alpha’s face probably had to be aching from the effort at this point.

“Stiles, you know you’re my buddy, but this is giving me a headache and we need to sort everything out before my head explodes from having conflicting instructions from my alpha and you.”

Jackson patted the back of Stiles’ neck, the familiarly friendly gesture soothing “He called that guy a discount Derek Hale. A knock off.”

Derek grabbed Jackson’s wrist hard enough that the bones creaked audibly.

“Ow, fuck!” Jackson yelled in pain. “I’m helping you, you big idiot!”

“Sorry!” Derek said urgently, “Just, please don’t touch Stiles, just until I can get myself under control.” Then what Jackson had ‘let slip’ seemed to hit Derek all at once. “That guy didn’t look anything like me!”

“No, I know that!” Stiles rushed to say. “But he was all brooding and scowly with dark hair, stubble and a leather jacket.”

“You liked him because he looked like me?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew that and that’s why you started treating me so differently.”

“Stiles -” Derek began, before Jackson stood up, pushing Stiles over to sit next to Derek.

“I don’t like being spoken over.” Jackson justified.

 

“Wait.” Isaac said. “I thought you were angry with all of us, but you were just avoiding all of us because Derek has been acting like a fucking tool?”

Stiles nodded slightly, avoiding meeting Derek’s gaze.

“Well, why are you mad at Erica?” The blonde boy asked, and suddenly, Stiles felt awfully guilty.

“Erica,” he said, addressing her properly for the first time. “What were you and Derek talking about in Derek’s room the night of your birthday?”

“Were you eavesdropping on us!?” Erica demanded, outraged.

“No!” Stiles returned vehemently, “I was already invisible in the room to try and calm down from a panic attack when you both walked in and started talking.”

“So, the door slamming, that was you?” Derek cut in, blanching white at the prospect and at Stiles’ nod.

“I mean, I figured that you were being a total dickhead as a hint for me to stop hanging around you so much. And then I overheard, _by accident_ , Erica saying that you should tell me to fuck off to my face. Well, at least I thought that’s what she was saying. That’s why I was upset. I figured that if I just avoided everyone, that you’d get what you wanted, and I wouldn’t have to hear you tell me to go away directly to my face.”

“Stiles.” Erica gasped, horrified. “I would never do that to you. I’d kick Derek’s ass if he tried to kick you out, and if I lost it’d only be expediting the inevitable because without you we’d all end up dead soon enough.”

Stiles made a sound that some traitors may describe as a sob. Sob-adjacent if you would. The spark all but threw himself at Erica, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t kid yourself, Stilinski.” Erica said, holding him close. “I’ll be mad at you later for believing the worst of me and not talking to me before trying to sneakily duck out of the pack.”

She paused to rub her cheek along Stiles’ cheek in a pale imitation of scenting. They both ignored Derek’s tiny whimper.

“But,” She continued, “I can’t imagine how much you’ve been hurting these past few days, thinking that I’d done that to you and teamed up with Derek behind your back.”

Stiles nodded wordlessly, and it took him a few more minutes before he could calm down enough to sit down back next to Derek. He got his cool water and took more gulps from that, trying to ground himself a little more. For the first time in a week, Stiles knew for sure that all of this could get solved, that as a pack they could sort everything out and have it all be alright, go back to how they were.

“Wait, Derek, why were you doing all that shit to me?!”

Derek looked down at his lap, fingers twisting in the soft fabric of his old basketball shorts.

Stiles wasn’t putting up with that. “First you were a tool at dinner, then you forgot to buy all the stuff I needed to make Erica’s cake. And you pretended to forget about the party which I know because I saw you give Erica a personally tailored jacket that belonged to Laura. And you haven’t answered any of my texts for a week.” Stiles threw his hands up in frustration and anger. “If it wasn’t my arousal over the Sala picture, why did you start getting so weird right after Allison showed me that picture?”

 

Derek sighed. He them mumbled something unintelligible, still staring resolutely down at his lap. “Oh my god, Derek, you’re shouting so much right now, try and keep it down!” Stiles snapped back.

“I said, that I was trying to be the kind of guy you’d be interested in, you said you liked bad guys.”

“Are kidding?” Stiles demanded at the top of his lungs. “You were treating me like shit on the bottom of your shoe because you were trying to flirt?”

“Uh…yes?” Derek seemed less confident now.

“For fuck’s sake, Derek, I had no idea you even thought of me like that.”

“Don’t worry, Stiles.” Derek said. “And of course, I won’t try and push myself on you any more, now you have a boyfriend.”

“What? Derek, push all you want, I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Friends with benefits, whatever, I’m not about to be the ‘other guy’ here.”

“Who, who are you talking about?” Stiles demanded.

“I know you’re sleeping with your friend, Ricky.”

Stiles turned to glare at Isaac. “ _Isaac_ , Rick was kidding. Derek, Rick says that I’m such a good wingman that I may as well be the one getting him off. But it’s just an inside joke.”

“So, you’re single.” Derek said, and Stiles could have cried at how nonchalant the alpha was trying to be and how far he had missed his mark.

“Yes, but we really need to go and talk this out,” Stiles demanded, knowing with certainty that the two of them wouldn’t be able to be completely honest with each other while they had an audience. “We’ll be back in a bit, you guys put on a movie or something.”

 

Stiles made to drag Derek upstairs. Derek didn’t resist at all, sliding his hand along Stiles’ palm until their fingers linked into each other. They went into Derek’s soundproofed room and slammed the door behind them loudly enough for Derek, with his sensitive hearing, to flinch.

 

“So,” Derek started slowly, smiling at Stiles in this adorably embarrassed way that immediately made Stiles feel all mushy. “You…you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No.” Stiles said firmly, pulling their linked hands closer to himself. “And Derek, if when you’d gotten jealous over Sala, you’d just taken me aside and asked me out, I would be a lot happier right now.”

“I didn’t think I had a chance.” Derek said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “I mean, I know you find me attractive, but I also know that we argue a lot and I know that my personality leaves a lot to be desired.”

“So, you decided to completely change the way you behaved? How long did you think you could keep that up?”

“I- I figured,” Derek stuttered out, looking so sad that Stiles sat down on the bed next to him and sort of leant into his side. “I figured that once you started to see me as a potential boyfriend, then I could stop, and you’d already be into me and stuff.”

“Oh, Derek.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t actually think most of my plan through.” Derek said. “If I promise to make it up to you, could we go ahead and forget that this week happened.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely a start knowing that you didn’t mean what you did.”

“And.” Derek started. Stopped. Exhaled shakily. “And I’d really love to take you out, or stay in, just you and me.”

“Oh god, this is happening. Are you serious?”

Derek’s eyes crinkled up at the edges as he beamed. His hand crept up from where it had, at some point, come back to rest on Stiles’ thigh, and landed solidly on the back of Stiles’ neck. His middle fingers and thumb digging into the corners of his neck where Stiles knew the majority of his scent was produced. Scent marking. Derek was getting possessive already and it only served to fan Stiles’ feelings of affection.

“You bet.” Derek said, and Stiles was struck dumb in his excitement.

“Yes, Derek, yes.” Stiles agreed enthusiastically when his voice finally returned.

 

Derek’s smile was like sunshine after hours in the dark. 

Then, slowly, Derek reached out for Stiles’ hand and brought it up to his face, and pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles’ fluttering pulse point. “Your heart is going so fast.” He said, with something in his voice akin to wonder.

“You make me nervous.” Stiles admitted, knowing his cheeks were up in flames.

“You terrify me, Stiles, you’re human, but somehow stronger than me and infinitely more brave.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop trying to get me to keep back during fights?”  
“No.” Derek said, sounding so serious that the pair of them burst into laughter.

 

After a few more minutes of talking, they decided to return downstairs to everyone else, deciding to let everyone else in on what had happened. Despite the fact that they’d only been upstairs for a few minutes, Lydia and Peter had both arrived and were cheerily contributing to the debate on which movie everyone was going to see.

 

While Isaac logged onto Peter’s shared Netflix account, everyone turned to their alpha with accusations.

“Stiles knows that I never would have done any of that stuff if I knew it was going to hurt you so badly.” Derek tried to defend.

“Derek, I tried to tell you this before.” Allison said, “You know, when you yelled at me and said I was an idiot to have lost Stiles in the club.” She said with a pointed look, causing Stiles to turn with an infuriated glare to his new…not boyfriend, but something. “Whenever someone says they’re into bad boys, they don’t mean they want to be treated badly, they just mean they have a thing for leather jackets and stubble.”

“I’ve said that I’m sorry.”

Stiles sighed, facepalming. “We’re not discussing this now or I’ll get too worked up to be able to have a relaxed evening. But, don’t get it twisted, we will definitely be discussing this later at great length.”

“Stiles, I…” Derek froze. “I actually don’t have an excuse.”

“No, you don’t.” Stiles agreed.

“So, that’s it? You won’t avoid us anymore?”

Stiles held his arms out, shooting Derek a glare when he grumbled at the werewolf beta. Isaac curled eagerly into Stiles’ lap.

“I was so worried.” Isaac muttered. “I didn’t know why you were so mad, I thought you’d just decided that you were done with all of us, that we weren’t worth having to risk your life for.”

“Isaac, that’s crazy.” Stiles started.

Allison cut in, one perfect eyebrow raised. “Stiles, you thought we wanted to kick you out. You though Derek wanted you to leave him alone for the rest of his life. He adores you and to be honest, we all love you.”

“Great!” Erica said, starling everyone with her volume. “Intervention’s over! Stiles, since we all missed you so much, I think you should pick the movie.”

“I was only not here for like two days.”

“And you left Erica’s party early.” Boyd pointed out, surprising a few of the other pack members as he hadn’t spoken at all before now. “So that’s like three days.”

“I missed you guys too, all of you.”

Derek made a subvocal groan and buried his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck with a smile.

“You too, big guy.” Stiles said, “I’m really glad you weren’t trying to get rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t. Stiles, separate from me wanting to like, you know, _date_ you.” The alpha whispered it like a dirty word. “You’re my anchor, you helped coax out my alpha form, and only focusing on you can calm down my alpha instincts.”

“I’m your anchor?”

Derek’s soft laughter was a soothing balm on the remainder of the cold sting of the mistaken abandonment. “Who else?”

 

And maybe it was really that simple?

 

* * *

 

 

Wednesday morning was different, Stiles woke up feeling lighter, excited for the attention the pack had been lavishing on him since the reconciliation.

 

Jackson came to his house to pick him up, and actually brought him a cup of fancy espresso coffee.

“Jackson, you know I’m fine with normal drip filter.”

“This is what I drink.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, comfortable in his shotgun position. “Therefore, it’s the best?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I drink it because it’s the best, it isn’t the best because I drink it, not even I’m that narcissistic.”

Stiles laughed so hard that the fancy coffee came out his nose a little.

 

Allison brought him a rolled-up piece of shiny paper, the moment he entered the school.

“Stiles, look, my accuracy on the AK-47 is almost as good as yours.” She said unrolling the large paper, revealing that it was a target sheet riddled with distinct bullet holes.

“That’s amazing, Allison.”

“Also, I kind of wanted to apologise for following you to Poisonous Peach the other day. Derek told me to, but I shouldn’t have been talking about your plans behind your back, and I promise, I really just wanted to make sure that you were alright, because you’d seemed so upset, I still should have respected your boundaries more.”

Stiles leaned in to give Allison a hug, and she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Allison, I think it would be best for all of us if we go forward pretending that these last few days just didn’t happen.”

“Okay.” Allison agreed easily. “Did you see how red Greenburg got when I kissed you? I think he has a crush.”

“Oh, come on! Ally, you can do so much better.”

“It’s flattering whether I’m interested or not.”

 

While the pack was doing their best to butter Stiles up, the rest of the day went by pretty much as normal. Then Stiles realised that Erica and Boyd were both absent from the lunch table.

 

“Please, please tell me that those two are off somewhere making out because they both realised that they love each other and all that?” Stiles asked, once the lunch period was well and truly under way.

“Erica told me she’d be arriving late,” Lydia said with no further explanation.

“Oh, and here’s Boyd now!”

 

Boyd definitely was looking rather worse for wear. While his supernatural healing capabilities prevented anything like undereye bags, he obviously hadn’t slept. His usually close-cropped hair was slightly longer, uneven right behind one ear. And he just looked sadder and withdrawn.

“Hey Boyd,” Stiles greeted brightly, he knew Boyd had issues with being unincluded and wanted to reassure him that he was part of the group.

Boyd cracked a small smile, “Hey, Stiles, glad you’re back.”

 

Just then, a hush fell over the cafeteria. Stiles turned to see what was causing that dramatic silence and saw Erica. Erica clad in an outfit that was half a step more conservative than wearing lingerie alone.

Stiles stomach sank, what was Erica thinking, trying to make Boyd jealous? He was already sinking down into his seat, shying away as everyone blatantly ogled his girlfriend.

 

Then, Erica did a slight turn and went straight to their table, instead of joining anyone else eagerly making room for her. Stiles hadn’t managed to figure out exactly what she was up to when she sat down next to Boyd.

 

At close range, it was clear that Erica was feeling nervous, and Boyd, while he was very carefully not looking at Erica, could clearly smell the anxiety and looked over in concern. Erica immediately landed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke quietly enough that the humans at the table had to strain to hear.

 

“Boyd, I’m sorry, I was a total bitch.”

Boyd blinked at her. “Uh, it’s fine.”

“No.” Erica said, tensely. “You deserve better. And it was fucking dumb of me to get mad over my boyfriend wanting to show me off.”

Erica grabbed him and kissed him. Hard.

Within a minute, Finstock was on his way over, dragging the two apart.

 

“Miss Reyes, is that really an appropriate outfit?”

“Nope,” Erica admitted readily, completely unashamed. “But I just came to school to make out with my boyfriend anyways, I’ll be leaving now. That’s my half of the agreement.” She said, before winking at Stiles.

 

And Boyd sat there while Erica left, pretty much glowing with joy. And from the jealous glances, Stiles knew that some of the other guys would assume he was smug at getting PDA from a hot chick, but Stiles knew Boyd was happy that he and Erica had finally reconciled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, American dress codes suck. What is even happening over there?  
> And the title is from a quote by Oscar Wilde.  
> “The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.”


	6. Now is the winter of our content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% fluff, because I hate finishing fics with a barely-fledging relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey BABES!!!! LAST CHAPTER!!! I hope you guys liked this as much as I liked writing it in the beginning (BC I was low key hating this story by chapter 5 whilst writing, it took several months)
> 
> Tumblr: derrickhale  
> [Reblog here (tumblr post)](http://piesexual.co.vu/post/168171406066/bad-boys-not-bad-news-ao3-frostedgoddess-17k)

That evening, was an unseasonably cold night and Stiles had his winter pyjamas on, only slipping out of his thick kalchuni at the last moment before sliding his toes through his crisp sheets. So, when his window was opened gently from the outside, Stiles’ survival instincts were focused on the icy breeze that blew through the room a lot more than he was worried about who exactly was breaking into his bedroom. Stiles groaned in shivering protest before starting in alarm and turning in bright surprise to see Derek crawling into his room.

“Der-bear!” Stiles called, reaching out with grabby hands. “How are you wearing just a t-shirt? It’s so fucking cold.”

“I’m a werewolf, Stiles. I can barely just feel the cold now. Why aren’t you sitting in front of the heater.”

“Power’s out.” Stiles explained, sighing in relief as his werewolf boyfriend crawled in like a human space heater.

“You’re freezing.” Derek said, spooning Stiles from behind. “You should have called.”

“Yeah, but you’re here anyways.”

“Yeah because when you didn’t reply instantly I assumed you’d been kidnapped and murdered.”

“Hilarious, babe, really.” Was Stiles’ shivering reply.

Stiles wiggled around until the two of them were face to face. “You’re so pretty, I totally fucking scored.”

“Shut up,” Derek said, but his blush was bright enough to practically glow in the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, then something rather terrible occurred to him. “Derek, tell me, when I didn’t reply instantly, did you assume I was ignoring you again?”

“No.”

“Yes. Derek, we went over all this just last night. It was just a horrible misunderstanding.”

“I know, I just sort of panicked.”

Stiles curled tightly into Derek, enjoying the feeling of strong arms wrapping him up in safety and warmth.

“Happy twenty-four hours anniversary!” Stiles said, making Derek laugh.

“Now I feel bad,” Derek said, teasing evident in his cheery tone. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Yes, you did!” Stiles insisted. “You got me relief from my impending hypothermia.”

Derek laughed into Stiles’ hair. “And don’t you forget it.”

“And I give you the gift of getting to rub the scent of a spark all over yourself. You wolves all go nuts for the way I smell when I use magic. So, you’re welcome.”

“You smell amazing all the time.” Derek said, sounding pretty embarrassed.

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Derek asked, voice going deep with the shock.

Shit, they hadn’t actually talked about it yet.

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed. “Forget I said that, back to the cuddling.”

“No, Stiles, this is a good thing. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, thank god.” Stiles sighed in relief. Then his mouth went off like a defendant’s gun. “Like, because, I know that most people like to kind of go on a few dates first, feel each other out about how they fit as a couple before they make anything official.” Derek tried to cut in as Stiles paused for breath but the spark wouldn’t let him. “But, we’ve already known each other for so long? And even at this point, it would be uncomfortable if we broke up because all of your friends are my friends and all of my friends are your friends, except Rick…”

Derek kissed Stiles hard, arms closing around him like strangling vines. Stiles kissed back almost as desperately, inordinately pleased at the outcome, as his babbling had only ever gained him a slap with romantic partners thus far. It was an amazing first kiss.

“Please.” Derek grumbled out as he drew back, lips sticky and red. “Please don’t mention a guy I thought you were sleeping with while we’re in bed together.”

“Derek?” Stiles asked, and if it had been any other wolf cuddling him, Stiles would have been scared for his life. “Are you losing control? Is everything okay?”

“My alpha wolf is just, a little possessive, we thought we were losing you, all week.”

“And then again, when I didn’t text you back?”

“Yeah. I just need…” Derek trailed off awkwardly.

Stiles understood. Derek just needed to believe that all of this was real. Like Stiles counting his fingers in a hallucination nightmare. Derek needed to count that Stiles was there.

“Derek, whatever you need,” Stiles said gently, easily. Sure, Stiles had needs too, like having a ‘meet the parents’ as soon as possible, but right now Derek was emotionally vulnerable, so his needs would have to come first. At least for a little while.

“What are you thinking about?” Derek asked.

“Nothing really.” Stiles admitted, happily soaking up Derek’s warmth. “Just about how we’re going to tell my dad that we’re dating now.”

“You…want me to officially meet your father?”

“Yeah, of course!” Stiles said, surprised at Derek’s hesitation. “I had to lie to my dad for years about where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing with them. Since doing that, I’ve decided not lie to him unless it’s a matter of his physical safety. Besides, my dad loves you, ever since you two were in that stick up and you broke the sawn-off shotgun. He still tells that story like at least once a week.”

“I just wouldn’t have guessed that you’d be so eager.”

“Derek, you really have to relax a little, I’m in this for the long haul as long as you are.”

“If we do break up, can you promise you’ll at least try to stay on as the Hale emissary?”

“Yes, Derek, but you’re bumming me out, less catastrophising, more cuddling.”

“Can…” Derek started, before muttering something so quietly that Stiles doubted that even if he’d been a werewolf he would have been able to hear it.

“Derek, we’ve been over this, I don’t speak mumble.”

“Can I kiss you some more?” Derek asked.

Stiles didn’t bother responding, leaning forward and kissing his alpha softly, sliding his frozen toes between Derek’s muscled thighs for warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a fun ride! I hope you all really enjoyed and you be back with me soon to enjoy my next fic. And hey, if you've enjoyed a few of my fics so far, I'd love it if you subscribed to my account (I promise I'm done with Disney fanfiction).  
> The title of this chapter is cannibalised from Shakespeare's Richard III.  
>  _Now is the winter of our discontent_  
>  _Made glorious summer by this sun of York;_  
>  _And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house_  
>  _In the deep bosom of the ocean buried._
> 
> Tumblr: derrickhale  
> [Reblog here (tumblr post)](http://piesexual.co.vu/post/168171406066/bad-boys-not-bad-news-ao3-frostedgoddess-17k)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: derrickhale  
> [Reblog here (tumblr post)](http://piesexual.co.vu/post/168171406066/bad-boys-not-bad-news-ao3-frostedgoddess-17k)


End file.
